


Beware the Mouse

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, BAMF Molly, M/M, Moriarty is dastardly, No Sherlolly, Sherlock John Molly in peril, it's a trap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:22:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: It's a trap and Molly, BAMF Molly, saves the day. Yeah, and Moriarty is a dick.





	1. It's a Trap!

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story from long ago in the beginning of Sherlock fandom. But I think you'll like it. No Sherlolly, but a great Molly story.

The explosion happened outside the morgue, but it was close enough. Damaged supporting walls rained fallen rubble everywhere. Sherlock lay unconscious with Molly on top of him. She had rammed into him, forcing him away from the collapsing wall that would have crushed them both.

Molly peered through the dust-filled air. She lifted herself off Sherlock and began to examine him. He showed no outward signs of severe injury. There was bruising on the left side of his face. 

She checked his airway; clear and his breathing was good. There were no apparent severe trauma. She pinched the back of his hand and he flinched slightly. That was a good sign. They were still inside the morgue. It wouldn’t be advisable to move him, but Molly is concerned that more of the inner walls would collapse, killing them in the process.

Moriarty had threatened Sherlock and the explosion is most likely Moriarty’s latest attempt on Sherlock’s life. Her being collateral damage wouldn’t bother Moriarty at all. 

Molly searched Sherlock’s great coat, there in an inner buttoned pocket she found what she was looking for. A small handgun, normally illegal to carry; Greg had gotten Sherlock a special permit because of the death threats that he had received. She placed the gun in an inner pocket of her lab coat, then gathered up Sherlock using his great coat to drag him through the clearer areas of the floor. Debris littered the room, the emergency lights hadn’t activated so the room was darker than it should have been. Slowly, not knowing how injured he was from the blast, she pulled him along inch by inch, hoping that she would find help soon. God Sherlock weighted a ton and she was being careful not to drag him over rough debris. Everything had happened so fast. Getting him out of the collapsing build is her first priority.

There was no sound at all. _There should be other people in the building,_ Molly thought. There should be fire engines and police men and women. There should be people looking for survivors, but there was nothing; the silence is eerie and disquieting.

John had been on his way down to the morgue. “John. Where are you?” Molly called out.

“I’m here, darling.”

A soft, sweet voice invaded her silence. She shuddered and drew the gun in one move. Holding the gun in the ready position. Her hands steady. She is on her knees next to Sherlock instantly. She sees Moriarty move from out of the shadows of the ruined building. Carrying a bright light that nearly blinds her.

“Hello, Molly, nice to see you again. You remember me, don’t you. I can tell by the way you’re holding Sherlock’s gun that you think you can save him. If you’ll just put the gun down and back away from him. I’ll just scoop him up and leave you alone.”

“The gun stays were it is and you aren’t taking Sherlock.” Her resolve is steely. She is not going to be easily swayed from protecting Sherlock.

“Ah, I can see it in your eyes, you care about the giraffe. Care isn’t the right word is it? You love him. Yes, see there was a brief movement of your eyes to him and away from me. You love him so, don’t you babe? It’s so hard to love a man who is incapable of loving you back.”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel or don’t feel. I will shoot you if you try to touch him.”

“Molly, Molly…I don’t think you have the fire inside to shoot an unarmed man. It takes a sort of inner ruthlessness. The spark of dark that I know Sherlock has, but which I doubt you can conjure up.”

Moriarty took a small step forward, smiling his happy boy face; his cold eyes locked onto Sherlock, his prize so very close and just a little mouse in his way.

“Why don’t we do this, I know you want to get him out of here. This building isn’t very safe anymore. Why don’t I help you? Between the two of us we can drag him faster and get him clear of the next bomb that’s going off soon. Otherwise, I’m afraid we might all suffer great injury and I’m not really here to die.”

Molly made an instantaneous decision.

“You drag him out into the hall. I’ll shoot you if you make a move to hurt him.”

“Great, smart girl. I like your thinking. I get to touch him now don’t I?”

“Now.” Molly didn’t raise her voice, but it was said forcefully.

“Your wish.” Moriarty said as he grabbed Sherlock by his coat around his shoulders, careful to support his head and neck with the huge collar. “Is my command.”

“Gently,” Molly admonished him. “Or you’ll be eating a bullet.

Lifting his eye brow in mock astonishment. “Honey, I will treat him like a raw egg for you, my sweets.” Moriarty drags Sherlock’s body out toward the hall. Finally, they are clear from most of the damage.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Molly asks not taking her eyes from the madman.

“I've made sure we aren’t disturbed. Minor explosives planted all over the place, keeping the bomb squad busy clearing the area. Brilliant really, then calls saying that first responders were going to be targeted and all of this going down at change of shift; a bit of chaos. My kind of evening.”

“Sherlock was right you are a heartless bastard.” Molly said with distaste. “You’re just worthless shite.”

Sherlock moves lethargically and Molly takes her eyes from the devil for a moment. He lunges at her. The gun shot rings out as Moriarty impacts with Molly. The gun is wrested from her grasp as Molly scrambles to cover Sherlock with her own body.

Molly turns to see Moriarty leaning back against what was left of an inner wall. His left side covered with his own blood.

“Bullet hit a rib and fractured it.” She sees the blood start to drip from his mouth. “Must hurt like hell. I’ve seen men die from wounds like that. Maybe you better crawl back under your rock and lick your wounds Moriarty. You’re not going to get what you want today.

Moriarty lifted the gun to fire in Molly’s face. She doesn’t flinch holding her position between her dearest friend and the man who would kill him.

A shot rings out as Moriarty’s face is impacted, throwing him sideways.

“Molly,” John is running as fast as the rubble and detritus of the explosion will let him.

Moriarty spun and disappeared into the shambles of the building, leaving only a bloody trail behind him.

“Molly, we have to get out of here. Grab the other shoulder of Sherlock’s coat.”

Together between them the fearless mouse and the brave solider pull the world’s only consulting detective from the next bomb blast.

“God, Molly, put Sherlock down and sit down yourself.” John is looking at Molly with terrible concern.

“I’m okay, John.” Molly says as she touches her head. Her hand comes away with her dark, sticky life’s blood all over it.

“You’re injured Molly. Lay down next to Sherlock.” John fishes for his mobile and speed dials for help.

“I wouldn’t let the spider have him.” Molly is going into shock, her pallor evident to John.

“I’d never let him hurt, Sherlock.” Her hand clutches at Sherlock’s and finding it she holds tight to him.

“I know, Molly, I know you never would.”

(-_-)

Molly wakes in a small room that has subdued lighting; it is plain and empty. She is on a tiny cot and touching her head she finds it has been bandaged. Throwing her legs over the edge of the cot, she stands. She is a bit shaky, but nothing that she couldn’t handle. She moves over to the door in this nondescript room. Turning the handle, she finds it locked. This was not good. The last thing she remembers is John finding Sherlock and her. Together, they drag Sherlock from the collapsing morgue after Moriarty’s explosive demolition.

“Hello,” she bangs on the door. “Hello?” She waits for what seems like a life time.

The door handle clicks and moves counter clockwise. Molly steps away quickly. Slowly the door opens and from the darkness in the outer corridor a man emerges. Molly gasps, Moriarty his left cheek bandaged and a brace visible under his open shirt, enters the room.

“You are incredibly brave for someone so small and insignificant.” Moriarty speaks in his small, inside voice, the smile on his face totally without humor. His dark, dead eyes penetrate Molly on many levels and she shudders inside at his malevolent gaze. “You hurt people, you hurt me; I'll never let you hurt anyone. It’s just not on.” 

He moves toward her in a very threatening manner, though he has no weapon, but Molly can tell he’s been injured too badly to be of any real threat. He is posturing, trying to scare her, but why?

“Where are John and Sherlock?” Molly stands her ground. Her voice is no match for his, but there is soft strength in her. Like the churning sea that brings down the strongest cliffs, turning them to grains of sand. She will not be frightened by this man.

“What do you care, Molly Hooper? You should be more afraid of me and what I have in store for you. I’m the one in control here.”

Molly stares at him. Her resolve is not broken by his threats.

“You don’t like getting your hands dirty. You’re the man who hires the assassin not the man that pulls the trigger.”

“Ah, intelligent and brave, I can see why Sherlock and John count you as an asset.”

“We’re friends,” Molly states emphatically.

“Sherlock and John are here. They are a bit more trouble than you’ve been. John is so touchingly loyal to Sherlock. Bit like a Welch Terrier that wants so to protect his master.” Moriarty smiles at his little joke.

“Sherlock was injured when I last saw him. I demand to see them now.” She is insistent, Molly’s mouse mode forgotten in her need to see that Sherlock and John are okay. ‘If you were going to kill us you would have done it already. You want to watch us. You’re the consummate voyeur, murderer of the mind, not the body.”

“Insightful as well as over-the-top brave. Well then, Molly Hooper, just follow me.” Moriarty turns to let Molly pass him and she is quick to move around him and out of the room. She wants to know that her friends are okay. Nothing else matters. Nothing.

In the darkened corridor there are many other doors on either side. Moriarty walks down a few meters and opens a door. Inside John is sitting at Sherlock’s bedside. John stands, turns toward Molly; the door behind her closes and she rushes to John’s side.

“Molly,” John throws his arms around her giving her a welcoming hug. “I was so worried about you. How are you? Here sit down and let me take a look at you.” Ever the doctor, John begins a thorough examination of Molly.

Molly looks at Sherlock. He lies in a bed that is too short for his long frame and he is paler than the white sheets that he lays in. He looks fragile and so very vulnerable. She feels a terrible urge to hold him and make everything all better, but she knows that no amount of hugging will ever undo the evil Moriarty has brought about.

“You have minor injuries, Molly.” John is relived.

“How is Sherlock, John? He looks really bad.” Molly is distraught. She feels a bit guilty about his condition. When Moriarty’s bomb went off she had knocked into him hard to save him from the falling wall caused by the explosion.

“He’s doing okay. He’s dislocated his right shoulder and someone seems to have cracked one of his ribs when they ran into him at light speed.” He smiled at her. “But you saved his life, Molly. He told me about your tackle. You should try out for my rugby team, you know. I’ve given him a strong sedative to help him sleep. He needs to rest.”

“He let you take care of him?”

“Yes, I don’t know what Moriarty is playing at, but he seems to want us to alive. With Sherlock on the injured list, it’s just you and me against the greatest madman of all time. Do you think you are up to it, Molly?”

“For you and Sherlock, I would crawl through broken glass on the dark side of the moon, John, you know that.”

John shakes his head in agreement. He knows he can count on the plucky doctor of pathology, that both he and Sherlock have long trusted to work alongside them.

“What are we going to do, John? Do you have a plan?”

“Sherlock’s not in great condition, hard to move him, but we can’t leave him. Yet, I think if we stay too long, we’ll end up dead. So I think that we have to find our earliest opportunity and just take it. Sherlock will have to deal with any pain that accompanies our plan.”

“I’m in,” Molly says looking into John’s eyes with all the conviction of a co-conspirator.

“Ah, the doctors in my life talking without me,” a baritone voice that speaks of pain and hints at joy causes the two doctors to move quickly to his bed side.

“Sherlock,” they say the name almost in unison. Their happiness at seeing him awake is overwhelming.

Sherlock smiles his little boy smile that is so endearing. “John, I told you the sedatives were a bad idea. I’m having limited control over my consciousness. Is there anything I can help you with before I lapse into drug induced sleep again?”

“We need to get out of here,” John says. “How do we make an escape with you hurt, Sherlock?”

“Molly,” you have to seduce Moriarty. In his moment of perceived triumph, he’ll be vulnerable. You’ve already wounded him. Take him hostage. He’s very much a creature of the mind, but he revels in his control over the physicality of others. Can you do that?”

All eyes turn to Molly, beautiful and brave Molly. Eyes wide, she takes a deep breath and stands tall, her intelligent eyes unwavering. A smile of treachery on her mouth. She pulls the scrunchy from her pony tail, letting her long chestnut hair rain about her lovely face.

“Does a mouse love cheese?”


	2. Seduction, the art of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is pretty BAMF and this is an AU where Moriarty is used and abused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry readers, this story was started years ago. I thought I could make more of it, but it didn't happen. I hop that you enjoy what did manifest.

She is being stubborn. Defiant. She wants to see Moriarty. His minions are being twitchy, not really sure about what the boss would want them to do.

“Are you not hearing me? I need to see Jim Moriarty. NOW!” Molly, steely eyed and frosty, stands firm against the large minion in front of her.

“Listen, lady, we’re not going to do anything...”

“Don’t listen lady me.” Molly wacks the minion in his carotid artery hard, using the edge of her hand like a knife. The larger, taller and heavier man falls like a lump of lead, unconscious.

The other two minions in the room stand aghast. They gingerly come forward, grabbing their fallen comrade and drag his ass out of the room. The door is closed softly.

Molly stands, tapping her foot. Then proceeds to pace the length of the small room. Inwardly she thanks John for the training he gave her months ago. He showed her the points on the human body that required minimal energy thrusts to disable or kill an opponent.

“I’m WAITING!” She shouts at the closed door. Minutes pass.

The door opens slowly. Jim Moriarty enters, dressed to the nines and sporting a grin that would weird out most of humanity if they could see it. His head wound bandaged, he moves gingerly.

“Hi, baby cakes. You wanted to see me?”

Molly, arms crossed over her chest, steps forward. Moriarty steps back. Putting her arms down at her sides. She stares into the black pools that are Jim’s eyes.

“I’m concerned about my friends. What are you going to do with them?”

“You mean Johnny-boy and Sherl? I hadn’t really set anything in cement as of yet.” His eyes sparkle with devious deviltry. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Molly presses herself up against a rather startled Jim Moriarty. He takes a huge breath and gives her a wide eyed surprised stare of fascination.

“I think we can come up with any number of options, don’t you, Jim?” She begins a sort of sliding up and down Jim’s torso. A rather sensual slide up and down.

“Why, baby cakes, I had no idea that you were still interested in little old Jimmy-dearest?”

Molly takes hold of Jim’s tie and draws it out of his suit vest. Not so gently tugging Jim closer to her lips. 

“Interested isn’t the word I’d use.” Pulling Jim in, Molly bites his lower lip, hard.

Moriarty’s eyebrows lift into his hairline, as he makes a muffled sound with his occupied mouth.

Molly’s small hand finds the zip of Jim’s pants. She tugs the zip down in slow motion. Extremely slow motion. 

“You do know that I’m gay?” Jim mumbles as his lip is still held captive by Molly’s teeth.

“You do know I don’t give a flying fig.” Molly comments as he maintains her lip lock on Moriarty.

As Molly proceeds to undo the leather belt that is keeping Jim’s pants up, a massive explosion happens somewhere in the complex.

“Shite.” Moriarty looks to the door as Molly knees him in his naughty bits. Going down, Moriarty curls up in a tiny little ball. 

The door slams open with a Kevlar vested John Watson crouched low, gun drawn, ready to shoot.

“Molly. You okay?” 

Seeing Moriarty on the floor, John pulls a zip tie from its holder at his side and ties the villain up, really tight.

“I’m okay. How is Sherlock?” 

“Present.” Sherlock states from behind John.

Molly runs forward to hug Sherlock as he back pedals.

“Careful, Molly. He’s a still a tad tender.” John warns her.

She takes Sherlock’s hands and squeezes them. 

“I kept Moriarty diverted.” Molly stands proudly

“Clearly.” Sherlock smiles. One of his real smiles. 

In the background black garbed tactical units are flushing the remainder of Moriarty’s people. This hornets next is going to be eradicated completely.

“All in all, I’d say that Moriarty was bested by our Molly.” John holsters his gun and comes forward to give Molly an exceptionally full congratulatory hug.

Sherlock gently encompasses his two best friends. This hug. though not what it could have been had he not suffered prior injury, was none the less most invigorating. With his deep baritone voice, he hums a triumphant tune that vibrates through them all. Molly giggles, John laughs whole heartedly and Sherlock; well, Sherlock is much impressed that Molly’s former mouse persona has given rise to a vital component of his crime fighting team. “Beware my Molly.” He happily pronounces.


End file.
